Too Abraham
by Satan Abraham
Summary: You've never hated anyone more than you hate Abraham. He's too tall. Too skinny. Too 'funny.' Too Abraham. Second-person, after-the-walk. Eventual Abraham/Olson. Probably.
1. you're dead

Henry Olson is dead.

You know this. You, Henry Olson, are dead. Or Hank Olson, as you came to be called in your later days. The only people who would _actually_ call you Hank were the guys on the Walk. The guys at home would just look at you like you were an idiot.

Which you were. Still are, probably. It's not like you really know; you're just dead and all alone. On a road, stupidly enough. But maybe all of the Walkers are here. You. Baker. McVries. Garraty. Barkovitch. Harkness. Abraham.

You really hope that's not true. Who the hell would want to see Abraham again? You think you can probably deal with Barkovitch; he's just an annoying little shit, but Abraham? You've never hated someone as much as you hate Abraham. He's too tall, he's too stupid, he thinks he's funny and, to be honest, so does everyone else, but you just _hate _him. He can make friends with the guy that _you _should've made friends with, because if you would've been friends with Collie Parker you would've been set for _life_. Despite his stupid-looking polo, Collie Parker is (was?) undoubtedly the coolest guy on the Walk. He's a badass. He's the kind of guy you wanted to be.

But Abraham got to him first, and you got the queers. Sure, you had Baker at one point, too, but then Abraham stole him away, too.

There was the problem. Abraham was just too damn charismatic. Too damn attractive. Too damn _Abraham._

You shake your head free of this and decide to start walking. You don't want to stay on this godforsaken road forever, after all. Maybe eventually you're run into a town or something and then… well, then you can stop walking. Stop this motherfucking walking.

You pass many other Walkers, but nobody you really care about. There's Scramm – you faintly remember him saying something about being married, but by the time he was talking about that you didn't really care anymore, and there's Barkovitch, and there's Collie Parker…

And there's that goddam Abraham.

He doesn't see you. He's too busy playing on the playground like a goddam kid. You wonder if, when Parker makes it this far – most of the guys are just sitting on the ground, looking disoriented, you fucking _ran _here – he'll join his stupid ginger friend or roll his eyes and swear at him.

Earlier, you would've guessed the latter, but, then again, you never expected to see Abraham hanging upside-down from the jungle gym.

He sees you and pulls himself up to sit on the top. Maybe he thinks this is intimidating or something; you don't know. You just cross your arms and look up at him. "What do you want, asshole?" he asks. There's another thing you've never liked about him. His voice. It's too damn deep.

"Nothing," you say, faintly remembering him puking when you died. Serves him right.

(To be honest, you probably would've puked if you'd seen someone walk with their guts hanging out, too. But he's never going to know that.)

He makes his way down with way too much caution – seriously, the guy's so tall he could just slide off of the top bars and only have a little bit to fall – and stands in front of you.

Let's get this straight. You're of average height; about five ten and a half. This guy's at least half a foot taller than you. Six three, six four, somewhere along there. Despite this, you feel that if it came to it, you could probably beat him in a fight. He probably weighs the same as you do.

"Wow," you say, smirking. "Intimidating."

"Shut up," Abraham says, and once again you wince at the voice. There's a stereotypical villain for you. If Abraham's the villain – you suppose that would be Barkovitch, or maybe the Major, but Abraham is your villain. "Why don't you just fuck off?"

"Nah," you say. "Don't feel like it."

The next thing you do you're sure is a mistake. You _think_ you can beat him in a fight, but you're not sure, and what if Parker shows up?

But you hit him anyway. You hit him in the jaw, and he looks surprised for a moment, then like he's about to kill you.

Maybe that was a bad idea.

You're not going to run, though, you're going to stand there, cross your arms, and wait for him to do something. He's been in fights before, you're sure of it, because who the hell hasn't?

"What the hell was that," he says, and his voice is dangerously low. Seriously, he sounds like Satan at the moment. You're caught between wanting to laugh and wanting to get the hell out of there. He takes a step toward you. You stand your ground. You're not going to give this bastard anything.

He hits you back with more force than you were ready for. You end up stumbling back a few paces, tasting blood, and to hell with it, you're just going to go for it.

You leap at him, driving your shoulder into his ribcage and knocking him over and into the jungle gym. There's a small tussle that involves him using his longer limbs to an advantage and you using the fact that you've just knocked him into a jungle gym to an advantage. You're busy trying to bash his face in while he is apparently trying to break all of your rips when someone pulls you off of him by the back of the shirt. You yank your way free and spit blood onto the ground, turning to see who it is.

Well, shit.

You're fucked now.

* * *

**i start too many multi-chaptered stories**

**but i sort of felt like writing a second-person not-so-depressing story sort of? and abe and olson just have a great rivalry and i don't know how often this'll be updated but **

**i **

**i don't know**


	2. you meet baker

Standing behind you is none other than the king of assholes himself, Collie motherfucking Parker. You wonder if he'll kill you slowly or just get it over with. Probably doesn't have the patience to do it slowly, but there's always the chance he feels sadistic today.

"You alright, Abe?" he asks, reaching a hand down to Abraham. Abraham takes it, using his other hand to try and stop the blood that's flowing rather thickly from his nose. Ha. You've really hurt his nose, it looks like. Your smugness is short-lived, however, because just then Collie Parker turns on you. "What the hell is your problem, Olson?"

"Hey," you say, shrugging. "It was just a fight. Not my problem he lost."

You're slipping back into your cool guy façade. That's good. You don't think you'd be able to stand up to Collie Parker any other way.

"I didn't lose, this asshole just interrupted," Abraham said, elbowing Parker. You sense something between them – maybe McVries and Garraty weren't the queer ones?

Nah, they were definitely queer. Maybe there was just something about the Walk that drew queer guys to it.

Except for you, of course. You're not queer. You're the furthest thing _from_ queer. Hell, you're so un-queer that you don't even think _you're _hot.

Well.

That might actually be self-esteem issues and your superiority complex.

You really don't like the fact that your face is completely covered in freckles, alright?

But anyway. Some blond asshole is about to murder you for hurting his best friend/possible gay lover.

"Why the hell aren't you gone yet?" Parker asks, and you realize that, while contemplating your emotional issues and freckles, you have completely missed your chance to escape. Damn it. "Goddam, you're one stupid kid. I mean, gotta admire your guts for what you did on the Walk. But seriously. What the fuck about this situation makes you think you gotta stick around for the afterparty."

You just look at him. He looks embarrassed, so he shoves you. You decide that, yeah, you should probably get out of here, and you do, wincing because _fuck_, that ginger bastard actually really hurt your ribs. You can hear them both laughing as you leave, but that doesn't matter. They don't matter. You just keep running, passing more people and more people before you eventually trip over Baker.

Why Baker was lying down in the middle of the road you don't know. But as is, you trip over him and scrape your elbows on the asphalt. "Sorry," he says, like he's the one that ran you over. You roll onto your back and shake your head.

"You're fine," you say. He looks closer at you.

"Wait – _Olson?" _he asks, and you nod, grinning a bit. You've really missed this kid. You really hate Abraham for stealing him away from you. "Have you been in a fight?"

"Yep," you say. "Hey, you think these houses are stocked? I mean, with food and shit? I wouldn't mind something to eat."

"And it looks like you need a band-aid," Baker says, poking at a spot under your left eye. You hadn't noticed, what with your ribs hurting like hell and all, but you touch the spot and your finger comes away bloody. Shit. That stupid fucking Abraham. "Who was it, anyway?"

Well, this was certainly the most _awkward moment of your death. _

"Uh," you say. "Abraham."

Baker looks a bit confused, then shrugs. "Well, he has never liked you," he said. "Probably because you laughed at him when he went to go get his number."

"Well, he should get the fuck over it," you say. It's not your fault he looked like an idiot. Tall and all arms and legs with his stupid jacket tied around his waist. Like a little kid. That's what he looked like, a six foot three little kid. You stand up. "How about finding those band-aids?"

Baker grins and follows you as you head for the nearest house. It's a nice-looking place – two floors, lots of windows, with a few kids' toys out front. They'll have band-aids, and probably some good food, too.

You'll probably never tell anyone this, but you've never exactly grown out of the little kid food stage. You still enjoy the occasional box macaroni and cheese, microwave TV dinner, and ice cream with multicolored sprinkles.

Once again.

You're the least queer out of all of them, no matter what those motherfucking multicolored sprinkles might say about you.

The door is locked. This is annoying, but nothing for the badass you are, or at least pretend to be. You break the window on the top of the door – really, windows on the tops of doors are stupid – and reach through to unlock the door. You cut yourself on the shattered glass but who gives a fuck.

As soon as you get into the house, Baker goes looking for band-aids and you wander into the kitchen. There's a basket of pears on the counter and you grab one, deciding that nobody else is going to eat them. There's blood dripping onto the counter from where you cut yourself on the glass from the door, but you figure that you can bandage that up once Baker gets back with the band-aids.

"Um, Olson?" he calls. You finish off your pear and toss the core at the garbage. It bounces off the rim and you decide that picking up after yourself is overrated. After brief confusion of _where the hell Baker is_, you find him standing in a bathroom, holding up two boxes of band-aids. "Tinkerbell or Disney Princess?"

"Shit," you say. You feel that this accurately sums up your situation. Baker is waiting for your answer. "Fine. Uh. Princesses."

You're not queer. Things are just going really, _really _weirdly.

The house is stocked in terms of first aid – Baker finds antiseptic to put on your cuts before he puts on those stupid Princess band-aids. You stand up to leave and he tells you to wait.

"Take off your shirt," he says. You just look at him. "You're walking funny."

That stupid fucking Abraham.

You take off your shirt and Baker stares at the bruised mess that you think is probably your chest. "What did _that_?" he asks.

"Your boyfriend's head," you say bluntly, and you see him sort of recoil. "I mean, no offense. Uh, I was just sort of making fun of you guys. I don't think he's actually your boyfriend. Parker's if anything."

"It's okay, Olson," he says. He's rolling his eyes at you. He thinks you're an idiot. Fuck. He doesn't seem to know what to do, so he dabs antiseptic where you look like you need it and throws your shirt back at you. "Put your shirt on. I'll go see if there's any food."

* * *

**i am really liking being in olson's head jesus christ**

**there might be a little bit of bakerolson-y stuff too because why not**


	3. you wish you had normal band-aids

Turns out Baker is incredibly incompetent at cooking, so you have to take over. You stick a can opener and a can of fruit cocktail in his hands and begin boiling water for your box macaroni and cheese. It really hasn't been too long since you've last made yourself some highly processed kid food, but it seems like a long time because being on that road seems like it took years.

Seems like it was years ago you died, too.

But _damn_, weren't you a badass in your way of going out? Way more badass than you figure any of the others were. You mention this to Baker over your fruit cocktail – which took Baker way too long to open, Jesus Christ had he ever been in a kitchen before? – and macaroni and cheese. Baker takes a while to answer.

"Parker went out the same way as you. Not as gross, though, he died right away," Baker says.

You scoff. Idiot.

"But he managed to kill a soldier."

Okay. What the fuck. It's seriously not possible for someone to be as badass as Collie Parker is.

"Any other noteable deaths?" You think about asking him about his, then decide that, even though Baker has established himself to be a bit obsessed with death, he probably doesn't want to talk about how he dies. He shakes his head slowly, then drops his fork.

"Oh! Barkovitch," he nods, and you just look at him. Barkovitch? That annoying little shit that surprised you when he lasted longer than the first day? "He tore his throat out."

Okay.

Maybe Barkovitch has beat out all of you in terms of 'most badass death.'

Nah. You still win in that. Even if Collie Parker shot a soldier. You're still way more badass.

You hear someone shouting Baker's name from outside. From the ridiculously deep voice, you suppose it's Abraham, probably accompanied by Parker. Baker smiles and abandons his food, making for the door and nearly tripping over a footstool. You follow, albiet a bit slower and more careful.

"Abe!" Baker calls out the door. Abraham turns and grins. He doesn't see you yet. Good. You hope to give the fucker a surprise.

Once he comes into the light coming out of the house, you can admire the damange you did to his face. His nose is swollen up, his face is bruised, and _damn _it, he found normal band-aids. You want to rip those stupid-ass band-aids off of his face and shove them down his throat. How will he like those normal band-aids then?

"Parker! I found him!" Abraham calls over his shoulder, and Parker calls something unintelligable but probably profanity-filled back. Abraham rolls his eyes and you decide that it's the best time to step into view.

"Fuck off, you ginger freak," you say. He looks offended… and then takes one look at the princess band-aid on your face and bursts out laughing. You feel yourself turning red. "Shut up."

"Aw, Olson, are you a pretty princess?" he chokes on his words and you really want to wipe that stupid grin off of his face. "Ah, fuck, this is just great."

Baker is looking between the two of you, a sort-of smile on his face. You can tell he doesn't know what to do.

You just hope he stays with you. If he leaves with Abraham you don't know what you'll do.

Probably join up with the outsider freaks. Stebbins and Barkovitch. The ones nobody liked. Great. You're going to be an outsider, and all because of this stupid fucking charismatic Abraham. Damn it.

You are all momentarily distracted by Parker and someone who looks like Barkovitch – you can't really tell in this light, it's getting pretty dark – wandering around, arguing loudly. Yeah, that annoying voice is Barkovitch. He's walking backwards. It's really a miracle he hasn't tripped yet – oh, there he goes. Parker laughs.

"Anyway!" Abraham says, bringing your conversation back to Baker. "You wanna come with me and Parker? We're gonna find a huge house and just fuck around, have fun, I think Davidson's coming along, too… Maybe Harkness and Pearson…"

You can tell Baker wants to go. Why the hell would he stay with you and your princess band-aids and box macaroni and cheese when he could go with Abraham and his parties and _Davidson_, who, while not badass, was probably the _coolest_ guy on the Walk, if his stories of his sexual exploits said anything about him.

Baker looks at you, then back at Abraham, and nods. "Okay," he says.

Fuck.

You didn't think he'd actually _leave _you.

Well, you could always pick up whatever's left of Barkovitch once Parker's done with him. It mostly seems to be verbal jabs from what you can see and hear from where you're standing, but you suspect it'll get physical soon enough. And it just has. Barkovitch, who was still on the ground, manages to yank Parker's legs from under him to send him sprawling, too.

Ooh. This should be interesting.

You inch closer. Abraham and Baker do, too, because what better to do when there's a fight than to crowd around and cheer the guys on? Davidson shows up too, and you think that's McVries over there, there's Scramm and Harkness and Pearson.

"You did not just fucking do that, you goddam little prick," Parker snarles, and you can see Barkovitch shrink a little bit under Parker's glare but he manages to respond in spite of this.

"Yeah?" he asks. "'Cause, it kinda looks like I did."

And then Parker's up, grabbing the front of Barkovitch's shirt and pulling him up to his level. Barkovitch is on his tiptoes, his hands up to Parker's in a weak attempt to push him away. It's Harkness that starts the typical 'fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!' chant, and nobody probably would've picked it up had it not been for Davidson. Everyone follows Davidson's lead and then you're chanting 'fight!' as Parker hits Barkovitch and Barkovitch, who knows he really has no chance, tries to _get the fuck away. _

"Just cut it out already," someone says at last. Parker pauses and glances around. Barkovitch takes this moment to pull free and slip away through the crowd.

You have no idea who said that.

And then Peter McVries steps out of the crowd, a sad smile on his face. "It's not worth it," he says. "I mean, yeah, we all hated him, but we're all dead now. Time to forgive and forget, right? I mean… think about what the kid went through to get to this stupid afterlife anyway. Or did you forget? He _tore his fucking throat out. _I don't like him. I don't like him at all, but I pity him. And I think you've made your point."

"You wanna go next, scarface?" Parker snaps. McVries laughs.

"You're just like him. Shit, a lot of us are just like him. Olson, you, Stebbins… Abraham, Baker… alright, maybe not Davidson, but that's just 'cause I don't know him well enough," McVries takes a deep breath. "And there we go. I've just given him enough time to escape. Maybe you won't keep _trying _to get under his skin. Ignore him all you want, and if he's a bastard to you, then by all means be a bastard back, but… seriously, Parker. I was watching you guys the whole time. He didn't do anything until you shoved your way into his little world."

"That was beautiful," Abraham said after a brief pause. "And kind of weird, listening to you defend him like that."

"Why not defend the outcast?" Stebbins said. He was a bit away from the group, grinning secretively.

You don't know what's up here, but you do know that you don't like it. It's not right.

You decide to go finish off that macaroni and cheese. It's probably cold and gross by now, but who gives a fuck.

* * *

**i really don't know where this is going**


	4. you get the freaks

Just as you expect, as soon as you get back to your new house, the macaroni is cold and disgusting. You finish off the fruit cocktail and decide to just dump the macaroni and cheese out a window or something. There's sure as hell nothing else to do with it.

You try to get some sleep in one of the beds upstairs – no, _not _the princess-themed one, the one that probably belonged to the parents – but find that you can't. It's the thoughts of the stupid party that's probably going on at Collie Parker and Abraham's house. The one that probably everyone but you, Stebbins, and Barkovitch will be at. But who knows. They could all be there, and it could just be you left alone.

You decide that you need to check this out.

It feels weird to go in what you wore to the Walk, so you decide to raid Wal-Mart for some decent 'spy on cool people' clothes.

Surprisingly, you run into none other than Gary Barkovitch there. He's sporting a black eye and has a cut on his chin. Souvenirs from his fight with Parker, you guess.

You spend about thirty seconds standing there, looking awkwardly at each other, before he snorts and leaves. "Hey!" you say. He pauses and looks over his shoulder.

"What do you want, asshole?"

Well isn't he a joy.

"What are you doing?" you ask. You don't really know why you're talking to him; you're just so desperately lonely you'll take whoever you can get. Everyone's _left_ you. Maybe this kid is just as lonely as you are. Maybe he won't leave you, because he won't have the chance to, because nobody likes him.

Of course, you don't like him either.

Why are you talking to him again?

"Why do you care?" he replies, standing on his tiptoes to snag a t-shirt off of the top shelf. Dark gray. Oh look, he's shaking things up. When you don't answer, he continues, like you want to hear what he has to say. "I just need some new clothes, that's all. I mean, these're kinda… disgusting by now."

You nod, even though his back's to you. The next words that come out of your mouth you wish you could take back as soon as you say them. "I'm planning on crashing Abraham's stupid little… whatever he's doing. Wanna come?"

The kid's so shocked that he drops his t-shirt. And then, while turning to look at you, he trips over his own feet and falls into the shelves of t-shirts. You just watch, smirking a little, as he goes down, taking about thirty t-shirts with him.

"Is that a yes or a no?" you ask. He's bright red. God, what a freak.

"Um. Yeah. Sure. I mean," he stands up. "Yes."

You laugh. He's so goddam awkward when you're being sort of nice to him. Of course, he probably doesn't know how to act around people that aren't being assholes to him, because he's so unlikeable. Huh. That's actually kind of sad, but, to be honest, you don't really care.

You gather up the clothes you're going to need and head back to your house. You shower until the water runs cold, wondering how you ever could've been stupid enough to leave this sort of life behind. Because you did have a fine life. Not super-excellent, of course, but you had a roof over your head and food every day and, basically, it was just a fine life. You did have some issues with people at school and 'trying too hard to be cool', as some people put it, but overall, nothing you couldn't deal with.

Wait, that's why you went out for the Walk in the first place.

To look cool.

Well, didn't that backfire on you.

Now, not only are you basically the least cool guy here – hanging out with Barkovitch of all people! – but you're dead.

You're such a dumbass.

When you finally get dressed, you notice that Barkovitch is standing awkwardly outside your house. He's far enough away that he thinks he looks like he's not awkwardly standing outside your house, but you know that's what he's doing.

God, what a freak.

You understand why he has no friends. Not only is he a complete dickhead, but if you're nice to him he turns into some awkward fuck who doesn't know how to act around people. Jesus Christ.

Of course, when you look outside the window ten minutes later, he's not there. Huh. Maybe you were wrong. Or maybe he thought you weren't going to show up so he decided to run away as to not look stupid.

If he was trying to not look stupid, he was way too late.

He'd looked stupid his entire life, you figured. From the minute he popped out to the minute he died. And actually after his death, considering… you know…

This is stupid.

You decide to head out, grabbing a chocolate-covered granola bar on the way and, after a brief consideration, grabbing one for Barkovitch as well. Might as well feed the freak.

When you get out there, Barkovitch is back, and Stebbins is with him.

Oh, look. Your prediction is coming true. You are stuck with the freaks. This is just _great._

"I only brought two, so you guys can fight over it," you say, tossing one of the granola bars at them. Stebbins, who is taller, reaches up and catches it, then holds it over his head. Barkovitch tackles him and wrestles the granola bar from his hand. "Well you two seem comfortable with each other."

Barkovitch flushes a dark red. You glance up at the sky. The sun is setting. Hm. What better time to be extremely lame and see what the cool people are doing than sunset. Stebbins smiles a very Cheshire Cat smile and the three of you are off.

It's not tough to find out where these people are. They've found the biggest house in the place; apparently one with a great sound system.

You swallow. Alright.

You can do this.

* * *

**this fanfiction is always just really fun**


	5. you wish you would've stayed home

It's Davidson who lets you in. He's already drunk. You can tell from where you are.

"Olson!" he says, grabbing you and pulling you in. He reaches for Stebbins, who's next, and pauses. "Olson! Didn't know you knew someone as hot as this!"

Stebbins turns a dark red, and Barkovitch rolls his eyes.

"Just get out of the way, asshole," he mutters, pushing past Davidson and disappearing into the middle of things. He's good at that, you realize. When he shuts up. He's too small and he has a walk of walking that makes people want to stay away. And then he opens his mouth and gets lines of people waiting to beat him up.

You decide the life (death?) of Gary Barkovitch must not be the greatest thing.

You stand there awkwardly outside while Davidson finishes ogling Stebbins – who has changed out of that outfit he wore on the Walk; he's apparently found a thrift store because he's wearing something as equally hideous now – and throws an arm around his waist, pulling him close. You wonder if you should leave. Davidson looks like he's about to kiss Stebbins.

You guess you probably should leave.

You disappear into the place as well. _Damn, _they really shoved all the Walkers into here, didn't they? You even see people that you're pretty sure nobody ever talked to that much; people like Larson and Curley and Ewing.

You shake your head, wondering how the hell everyone got invited but _you._

Well, actually, you know how that happened. It's because Abraham hates you. The evidence of that is in the princess band-aid on your face, which you probably could've switched out for a regular one at Wal-Mart, but didn't because you're a wuss and don't like ripping off band-aids. But you can rock this stupid fucking princess band-aid if it kills you.

Well, chances are, _it _won't kill you, but some dickhead will because you look like a faggot.

Of course, considering how… _non-weirded out they are by every third Walker making out with another Walker everywhere you turn you figure they probably won't care that you're wearing a princess band-aid holy fuck is that Pearson and Harkness._

You shake your head to clear it and wonder if you shouldn't have just stayed home. Or at least made your own party. You and the losers. Even though it seems that Stebbins will not be seen as a loser for long, what with Davidson's attachment to him and all. Great. You and Barkovitch.

"Hey Olson," someone says, and you nearly trip over your own feet in order to acknowledge the person that acknowledged you. It's just McVries. Oh.

"Hey," you say. He looks like he's about to burst into tears. You have no idea why. He's probably drunk, too. And thinking about his boyfriend who… you actually haven't seen around here. Huh. Did Garraty actually win. "You okay?"

McVries nods and continues to stare off into space. Why did he start talking to you? Oh, well, it doesn't matter anyway. You turn to get away from him, because to be honest he's sort of freaking you out, but he grabs onto your wrist. "Wait," he says. "I have something to tell you."

"If it's that you're majorly queer for Garraty, everyone already knows," you say, and he shakes his head.

"No, no, not that…" he realizes what he just said and turns pink. "I mean… oh, yeah. Abraham. He wanted to be notified if you showed up. He hates your guts, Olson. And not just because they made him puke."

"Am I ever going to get away from the intestine puns, or are they just going to be a part of my life now?" you wonder out loud, and McVries pats your hand understandingly. You pull away. He's really starting to freak you out now. "Anyway, I can handle him."

"Yeah, him," McVries says. "But what about Parker?"

"Parker'll have his hands full with Barkovitch!" You knew there was a use for him.

McVries stares at you for a few seconds, then bursts you laughing. "You brought _Barkovitch_?" he asks between gasping for air and looking like he's about to die.

"Yeah. And Stebbins. But I think Davidson's got him," you say, shrugging. McVries keeps laughing, and you decide that it's time to leave him alone.

You decide to explore a little; wandering around and peering into closed doors. Unless you hear people inside. As you have realized, most of the Walkers are complete flaming homosexuals.

Except you, of course.

Forget about the princess band-aid.

There's just one more door to go. You press your ear to it, hear nothing, and open the door.

Abraham and Baker are kissing each other.

Quietly, though. You have to commend them on not being super loud and creepily disturbing about it like all the other couples. You wonder if you can leave before they notice.

Baker sees you. Abraham looks too freaked out to notice you. Baker motions for you to get out of there.

You, not being as big of a dumbass as you are sometimes seen as, get the hell out of there.

You slam the door shut and go for the room across the hall. It's empty. Thank God. You can hear Abraham asking who it was, and Baker says he doesn't know. Thank God. Even though he left you, he'll still stick up for you. What a nice kid.

You hear Barkovitch and Parker arguing, heading your way. You wonder if you should block the door and make it sound like there are people in here, but then decide that that's degrading and stupid and that you really shouldn't do that. So you just hope they don't come in.

They do.

You hope they don't notice you.

They don't, which is fine. You're fine with them not noticing you. Until they start – what are they doing, exactly? Are they fighting? There's some making out in there.

You're going to leave now.

* * *

**too abraham now with parkovitch and bakeraham**


	6. you have friends, sort of

You decide to head back to the main room, away from whatever Parker and Barkovitch have going on in that room. To be honest, you really don't want to know what they're doing. The only thing you figure is that you'll be totally on your own now. Stebbins has been snapped up by Davidson, and now Parker and Barkovitch? You'll be totally alone.

Well, if you're going to be totally alone, you better start now. You leave, ignoring someone calling your name. It's probably just McVries. Who cares about McVries, apart from Garraty, who you decide must have won. After all, if he was dead, he'd be attached to McVries. And seeing as McVries is almost always alone – though his is by choice, the lucky bastard – you figure that Ray Garraty, "Maine's Own", must have won.

You wonder _how_ he managed to beat everyone – especially Stebbins! – but decide that it's not important. He must have just had something that the rest of you didn't. A girlfriend, maybe. You remember him talking about a 'Jan.'

You head home and are finally able to get some sleep. There are a lot of blankets and pillows on this bed and by the time you wake up you figure you will be almost suffocating.

Good. Maybe you'll die again.

**[END OF DAY ONE]**

…

When you wake up, there are people in your house.

You can hear them. McVries and Barkovitch are arguing loudly.

_Great._

You wonder if you should just stay upstairs or, a choice that is looking more and more pleasant by the second, throw yourself out the window. You eventually decide on showering and wonder why you didn't just grab a bunch of different clothes when you raided Wal-Mart. It couldn't be long before everyone else decided to go through there, and you don't want to be stuck with bad stuff. Or Thrift Store clothes. Or girl clothes.

Of course, there could be other clothing stores around. You just saw the Wal-Mart right away.

You just throw on the clothes from yesterday and head downstairs. On the way you run into Stebbins, who is staring curiously into the princess-themed bedroom.

You don't want to know.

Barkovitch and McVries are apparently arguing over what to watch while they eat their poptarts. Barkovitch has cherry and McVries brown sugar cinnamon. You're not sure what this says about their characters. Possibly that Barkovitch is disgusting and McVries is boring.

Yeah, that sounds about right.

"Don't eat in the living room," You say while you head into the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, they ignore you and start arm-wrestling for the remote.

Hopefully this place has some cereal or something.

You find some Reese's Pieces in the cupboard and sit at the breakfast bar, reading the back of the box and making your own 'Reese's Rap.' It rocks.

Well, it rocks as much as a 'Reese's Rap' can.

Stebbins appears, apparently over the princess bedroom. You briefly wonder why all of these people are in your house, then decide that it's better than being alone. Even if it's the losers and McVries.

Stebbins makes a toasted peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich and sits down next to you. As expected, it is extremely awkward. You need to say something.

"So, uh," you say. He looks at you. "That was smart, what you did at the beginning of the Walk. Seeing where the bottom of the speed limit was."

"Thank you," he says quietly. "I wasn't aware that I was being observed."

"Everyone else thought you were going to get your ticket, but I knew what you were doing," you say. He nods slowly and finishes up his sandwich. Barkovitch yells for a rematch in the other room. "So why are you all here?"

"We had nowhere better to go," Stebbins says, shrugging. You figure he's right, though you still wonder why McVries is here. Stebbins and Barkovitch you can understand; they have no friends and neither do you, it seems. But McVries? You thought he got along well with everyone on the Walk, though it could've just been Garraty… he annoyed everyone else. He sure annoyed the hell outta you a few times.

Stebbins leaves and you drink the milk out of your bowl and drop it in the sink. You figure you should probably get someone on the dishes. They're starting to pile up.

Oh well. You'll do it sometime. Or maybe Stebbins will. That would be nice.

When you enter the living room, Barkovitch and McVries have abandoned the arm wrestling match and are just fighting for the remote. McVries takes on the role of the douche older brother. Barkovitch takes on the role of the annoying little sibling. McVries holds the remote at the moment, his foot on Barkovitch's chest, trying to push him away. Barkovitch yanks on his arm. Stebbins sits on the armchair and watches them.

You pluck the remote from McVries's hand and switches the TV to DVD mode. "Pick out a DVD," you say.

There's a mad scramble for the DVD rack. You can tell that Barkovitch has an older sibling and McVries a younger one.

You and Stebbins are left to decide between what McVries and Barkovitch pick out – The Karate Kid and The Exorcist.

"The Exorcist seems like a movie for nighttime," Stebbins said. Barkovitch gives him the finger. You nod, but you agree with Stebbins mostly because you saw thirty seconds of The Exorcist once and had nightmares for months. "We can watch it tonight."

"Yeah, let's watch The Karate Kid," you say. Barkovitch makes a face and slumps back onto the couch. McVries sits on the opposite end and you decide to take the middle.

Two hours later, you stand up and stretch. What a motivational movie. Almost makes you want to kick Abraham in the face.

Well, you don't actually need a motivational movie to do that.

Barkovitch is asleep. Stebbins is watching the credits. You turn to McVries.

"Feel up to heading to Wal-Mart to stock up on clothes and food? Everyone else's probably hungover – Jesus Christ does Barkovitch have a hickey," you say, staring at Barkovitch's collarbone, which has recently become uncovered. His shirt's rather large on him. "I mean, I saw him and Parker last night, but… _Jesus_, Parker must've been drunk.

"Let's go," McVries says, standing up.

"Get me books," Stebbins says, not looking up from the tv screen once.

* * *

**this is so fun to write you don't even know**

**especially mcvries and barkovitch even though barkovitch having an older brother is complete headcanon**


	7. you go shopping with mcvries

You and McVries walk half the way to Wal-Mart before McVries stops.

"What?" you ask.

"Why have we been walking this entire time when we could just take a car?" he asked. "Can you drive?"

"Well, uh, I don't have my license," you say, tiptoeing around the question because you've never actually driven anything in your life. "…or my permit."

"But can you drive?" McVries asked. You shake your head and he rolls his eyes. "Damn it. I hate driving. I suck at it."

"Better than me," You say, and the two of you set off on a hunt for a suitable car. Eventually you come across a car that both of you agree is the sufficient level of awesomeness. Seriously, just imagine the coolest car ever that has room for a bunch of stuff that you're going to need from Wal-Mart and that's what it is.

McVries drives because, like you said, you've never actually driven anything in your life. It's sad, but true. You just never had the time, or maybe the motivation, or maybe you were too scared, to learn to drive. There was always someone else willing to drive. You never actually had to.

In hindsight, maybe you should've learned how to drive.

It's awkwardly quiet the way there. You flip through the radio stations, eventually just turning the radio off because it's all static. Apparently the afterlife has TV channels but no radio stations. Doesn't that make perfect sense.

You make a mental note to pick up some CDs at Wal-Mart.

"So," you say as the two of you get out of the car. "You ever make a move on Garraty, or were you stuck making extremely obvious hints 'til you died?"

McVries looks slightly insulted, but he gets over it. "Well, unless you count 'Would you let me jerk you off' as an extremely obvious hint…" he trails off and if you had been drinking something, you probably would have done a spit take.

"You actually said that?"

McVries nods and you decide to head into the Wal-Mart. You shouldn't be surprised, considering all the Walkers' actions last night, and especially considering you knew McVries was queer from the start, but… Seriously? He asked that _on the Walk?_

You decide that Peter McVries is an idiot.

The only person in the Wal-Mart is that Percy kid. He runs off as soon as he sees you. Apparently he still thinks of you as a badass. Good for him. He's the only guy around that still does.

Well, maybe people like Curley and Ewing, who died straight off, might. The ones who died when you were still cool. The ones who died before you went off the deep end.

What happened to you being crazy, anyway? You and everyone else you're sure must have gone crazy. You're all fine. Everyone you've come in contact with has been perfectly sane – hell, Barkovitch is better than when he was alive. He's not as much of an annoying little shit as he was when you first met him.

Maybe McVries is a positive influence on him.

"I'll go get Stebbins's books," McVries says, grabbing a cart and heading off. You roll your eyes. He left everything else to you. Well, fine. You'll get food and clothes and CDs and whatever the hell else you need. Shampoo. Dish soap. Shaving razors. Barkovitch and Stebbins don't seem like they'd need to shave much, but McVries sure as hell does and you do too.

You go for food first, though. You stock up on the good stuff – candy, pop, energy drinks, chips, and then, as a second thought, grab a bunch of frozen TV dinners and some canned fruit.

You're all going to get diabetes.

Can you get diabetes in the afterlife?

Well, that doesn't matter. You head for the clothing aisle, and just decide to dump a bunch of t-shirts and jeans and underwear into your cart. You don't bother sorting through sizes or anything. You've got everything from Stebbins, who is taller than you and probably half your weight, McVries, who is around the same height as Stebbins but actually a healthy weight, you, who's about an inch or so shorter than those two and a healthy weight, and Barkovitch, who is like five six.

Yeah, you can just get a bunch of different sizes.

On your way to find McVries, you pass a thing filled to the top with five dollar CDs. You figure they'll all suck, but you do find a few good ones.

McVries is standing in the book section, throwing every book he can find into his cart. Even kid books and romance books.

Well, they're not for you, so you're not going to complain.

"You about ready?" you ask, and McVries glances at you.

"Hold on," he says, flipping over a book and scanning the back. "I don't really know if Stebbins'll like any of these books, but they're the only ones here. A lot of girl books. What, don't they think guys read, too?"

To be honest, you haven't read a book that wasn't assigned for class for a while.

Actually, you rarely read those books assigned for class, either.

You help McVries clear out the book area and the two of you head for the car. Once you get there, you realize the worth of those stupid bags they put everything in. It's going to be a bitch to get everything from the car to the house – hell, it's going to be a bitch to get everything from these carts to the _car._

But you manage it, and soon the two of you are back in the car, food and books and clothes and shampoo and everything else tumbling around in the backseat and trunk. Maybe you shouldn't have shoved it all together. You're pretty sure all the chips are going to be crushed by the time you get home.

"So," you say, fiddling with the CD player in the car while pretending you actually don't want to get the CD case open, it's not that you can't actually open it. "Why exactly were you and the freaks in my house?"

"Me and the freaks," McVries laughs. "Aren't I a freak, too?"

"Yeah, but you had friends," you say, shrugging. "Anyway. Why?"

"We had nowhere else to go," he says. "I ran into Stebbins while trying to catch you, and then Barkovitch comes stumbling from nowhere all freaked out. Both Barkovitch and Stebbins knew where you lived, so we just headed there and crashed on the couch."

"All three of you?"

"Yeah," he says. "It was crowded."

* * *

**this is my favorite fanfiction to update tbh**


	8. you wonder how the hell garraty won

Once you get back to the house, Barkovitch is up and watching The Exorcist with Stebbins, who looks sort of freaked out.

Thank God. You're not the only one who hasn't seen the entire movie before.

McVries makes a face as that stupid devil-possessed girl spews green stuff everywhere. "Ew," he said. "What happened to watching this at night?"

"Fuck that," Barkovitch says, not really paying any of you any attention. Somewhere along the line he's made cookie dough. How long were you at that Wal-Mart, anyway? It did take a while to get everything from the carts to the car, and picking out food took a long time, too.

Also, you'd gotten lost on the way to find the shampoo and other bathroom necessities. One minute you were almost there, the next you were looking at bicycles.

Wal-Mart was a weird place.

You turn off the TV, despite Barkovitch's protests, and tell them to get stuff from the car. McVries salutes and heads out. Barkovitch flips you off and follows. You don't even see Stebbins leave; one minute he's there, the next he's gone. You really were stuck with the freaks, you realize as you grab the bowl of cookie dough and take out a hunk. This is also decent cookie dough. You didn't know that Barkovitch could make cookie dough.

McVries comes in with an armful of random shit, a huge grin on his face. "Baker's outside," he says, and you practically run him over in order to get out there to see Baker. You're not queer. You just think that Baker was the best guy on the Walk and should have won. From his position on the road, you figure he was one of the last ones to die. Damn, he must have been so sad when he got his ticket… almost there, and then… nope. Nothing.

Outside, Barkovitch is sitting on the ground, dark red, pressed against the tire. Stebbins seems to have found the hood of the car a good place to sit and watch.

Baker is… well, he looks confused. He's standing in front of Barkovitch. Maybe they bumped into each other? Something like that, you figure. "What happened here?" you ask, and Baker glances at you.

"Oh, hi Olson!" he says, smiling at you. You grin back. "I came to see you. Sorry about sort of… leaving you the other day. With these guys. You've got McVries, though, so it can't be that bad… and I don't really know Stebbins, but he might be cool-"

"Thanks," Barkovitch says, rolling his eyes. He seems to have gotten over his temporary embarrassment. Maybe Baker scared him and he hit his head or something. You don't know, and his expression tells you not to ask. "Nice to know I'm a reason to apologize."

"Yeah, well, um, Olson," Baker says, turning away from Barkovitch, who takes off, and taking a step toward you. "I talked to Abraham, and he says that he'd be fine with you staying with us? I mean, he said he wouldn't try to kill you on purpose. He really doesn't like you, but I asked him if it would be okay, and apparently it is."

"I think one of us would be dead before the week ended," you say, rolling your eyes. You really want to go, though. If you can get out of this place and with Baker and possibly McVries, if nobody has a problem with it, why not? Let the freaks to themselves. You could be normal again. It's been a nice… three or so hours… but you'd rather spend your time with Baker and Collie Parker and _even _that damn Abraham.

Yeah. You'll take it.

"But, yeah, okay," you say, and Baker grins. "Just hold on, I've gotta pick my stuff out of here… is it alright if McVries tags along?"

"Yeah," Baker says, shrugging.

"Sorry, Olson, I'll stay here," McVries says from the doorway. "Do be sure to drop by, though. If you have time to visit the freaks."

You decide that McVries has been spending far too much time with Stebbins.

"Whatever," you say, shrugging and turning back to Baker. "I'll be up in a little bit. Half an hour? Maybe more?"

"Okay," he says, nodding. "Parker's still asleep, though; you might not want to wake him up. I'll leave the door open."

"Alright," you say, and he leaves. He walks. Apparently he doesn't like driving – or he's like you and needs someone to drive him around. You'd feel a lot better about yourself if it was the latter. "So, McVries, why'd you decide to stay here?"

"There's something much bigger going on here than it just being the afterlife," he says. "I don't want to be 'having a good time' all the time; I want to wait for Ray."

"He won, right?"

McVries nods, and you take a moment to wonder how the hell the kid did that. He wasn't anything special, you didn't think.

Of course, you thought you were going to win, and you barely made it over halfway.

But you never actually thought you would win.

No, you never really did.

* * *

**i don't know where i'm going with this**


	9. you get along with abraham for 5 minutes

By the time you get everything of yours sorted out, it's noon, Barkovitch is back, and McVries is making grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.

"Stay for lunch?" he suggests, and you decide that, yeah, you might as well stay for lunch. You sit down beside Stebbins, who is reading one of his new books. Barkovitch is sitting on the counter, flicking rubber bands at McVries, who looks like he's about to snap and murder him at any second.

One of the rubber bands goes into the pot of tomato soup. There's a silence in which you all look at Barkovitch, who shrugs.

"Oops," he says, and you roll your eyes. Yeah, he's a lot better than he was on the Walk, but he's still an annoying little shit. McVries finishes cooking and tells Barkovitch to find some bowls and plates and cups and spoons. Barkovitch replies in his wonderfully charming way, "Find it yourself, scarface."

"_Christ_, you could help out sometime, you know," McVries says. Barkovitch snorts.

"Yeah? Why?"

"Because otherwise we'll kick you out," McVries says, glancing at Stebbins, who is ignoring everything that's going on, totally immersed in his book. "Either you set the damn table or you do the dishes."

Barkovitch made a face, but started to look around for dishes and silverware. It took him a while, but eventually the table was set, and then McVries was carrying over the pot of soup, Barkovitch with the sandwiches and carton of milk behind him.

You sit at an actual table this time; Stebbins on one end, you on the other, with McVries and Barkovitch in-between. They immediately begin to fight over the sandwiches. You take the one that they were fighting over and grin as they both give you the finger at the same time. They really have a weird relationship. It really is almost sibling-like.

"So, you really heading to asshole village?" Barkovitch asks through a mouthful of tomato soup-soaked grilled cheese sandwich. You don't actually like tomato soup, so you've just been eating the sandwiches. You've probably had about five so far.

"Just 'cause of Baker," you say, and he raises an eyebrow. "Oh, shut up, I saw you and Parker last night."

He turns bright red. "He was drunk," he mutters.

"Yeah, but what about you?"

"I didn't really know what was going on. It was very confusing. I don't know if we were fighting or…" he trails off, and you laugh. He throws his spoon at you.

You confiscate it and he ends up having to go get a new one.

"It is a bit sad that you're leaving us," Stebbins says, looking up from his book at last. He's really good at reading while eating, you notice. You're not sure what he's reading, though – some fantasy thing, it looks like. "But may I have your room?"

"Hell no, that's mine!" Barkovitch says.

"No, you get the princess room," McVries says, smirking.

"That leaves you with the couch, dickbag," Barkovitch snaps, and McVries looks at Stebbins.

"Rock paper scissors for it?" he offers. Stebbins shakes his head.

"No. It's mine."

"So do I just not get a say? Am I just stuck with that stupid princess one?' Barkovitch complains, and McVries nods.

"Pretty much," he says, and glances at you. "Why don't you choose who gets your room?"

"Hell, I don't care," you say, shrugging. You should give it to Barkovitch. That'd be funny. "Besides, it doesn't really matter. If you don't want to stay here, you can always sleep next door or whatever."

"Freaks need to stick together," McVries says, grinning. Stebbins nods. Barkovitch looks annoyed.

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna head out now," you say, finishing off your sandwich and heading for the car. Once you get there, you pause. You can't actually drive. Shit. You walk back in. "Uh, McVries? You think you could drive me over?"

…

Baker's waiting outside when you get there. He's lying underneath a tree and Abraham is spraying him with a hose. McVries honks. Abraham jumps and sprays the car. McVries rolls down a window and leans out, getting a face full of water. "I brought your new asshole!" he yells.

"You're not staying?" Abraham asks, dropping the hose and loping over to speak to McVries better. McVries shakes his head.

"Someone's gotta keep those freaks in line," he says. "And Stebbins, while an asshole, makes good conversation sometimes."

Abraham nods. "It's just me, Collie, and Art in there. I thought Davidson was going to stay, but I woke up this morning and he was gone. Oh, and now this guy, too, I guess," he says, nodding half-heartedly at you. You fight the urge to stick out your tongue. You're such a mature person.

"Big house," McVries observes. "In ours, I think I'm either going to end up sleeping on the couch or sharing a bed with Stebbins."

"You could always take the princess room from Barkovitch," you suggest, and Abraham laughs. "I mean, I think he'd thank you."

"No, it's funny," McVries says.

"Almost as funny as the princess band-aids on your face," Abraham says. You feel your face heat up. You'd forgotten about those. Maybe they'll come off with a few more showers. You sure as hell hope so. "But, yeah. See you McVries. Olson, get your stuff. Baker'll show you where you'll sleep and whatnot. Don't invite your freak friends over. Except McVries. McVries is fine."

"I don't think they want to come over," you say. Then you think of Barkovitch and Parker. You decide not to mention it, because you and Abraham are getting along and if you say anything that could possibly be seen as offensive to anything you have a feeling that that will snap and you'll be back to fighting.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Abraham says, shrugging. "Well, I'll leave you to Baker, then."

Baker, who has by now gotten up and is standing beside you, smiles. "Ready?"

You swallow. You're not really ready, but you're going to have to be. For Narnia.

Or something.

* * *

**this is still the most fun to update jesus christ second person is so much fun**


	10. you don't know what's going on

It is incredibly messy inside.

Of course, you expected this. There was what looked like a decent, albeit incredibly gay, party last night. Baker doesn't seem to notice the mess and pulls you toward the back of the house. "Shh," he says, even though you weren't making any noise. You roll your eyes, but you actually do not want to wake up Collie Parker, so you stay quiet.

Baker leads you up stairs and down hallways and eventually dumps you in the attic. It's a pretty cool place, as far as attics go. There's a bed shoved against the wall, a bookshelf shoved full of books, boxes shoved in corners… you're using the word 'shoved' way too much but, hell, that's what it is. Everything's shoved everywhere, just like you've been shoved into this room away from everyone.

You tell yourself that it's because all the other rooms have been contaminated/are too close to Collie Parker to be safe. And you could be right. But you have the idea that Abraham only agreed to this if he could stick you in the attic.

You spread your stuff all over the floor in a weak attempt to make the attic seem like home. It fails. You miss the freak house already.

You decide to head downstairs and outside to be with Abraham and Baker. You're going to feel like an annoying third wheel, but you don't particularly care. To be honest, you want to be the annoying third wheel at the moment. You're sure as hell awesome at it.

When you get outside, though, they're gone. You have no idea where they are but you don't particularly want to look for them on the off chance that they could be making out in the bushes somewhere. You don't think that people actually made out in bushes – it sounds really uncomfortable – but you figure that Abraham's stupid enough to want to and Baker's nice enough to go along with it. He was nice enough to listen to you brag about how you were going to win.

He probably rolled his eyes when you died. If he wasn't too busy being a bigger man than Abraham and managing to, you know, not puke his guts out. (Oh, great, now even _you're _starting with the intestine thing.) Of course, nobody except Abraham threw up that you saw. You didn't see everyone, of course, being busy dying and all.

You decide to wander around town; see what's there apart from that Wal-Mart. Maybe you'll find a bookstore that you can later direct Stebbins to. You have a feeling that he's one of the only guys that will be happy upon finding it. Maybe Baker liked to read. Yeah, you could see him reading creepy books. Like that one that came out a while ago – the one about the chick with the telekinetic powers. You never read it, but you debated going to see the movie, and you heard that people thought the guy who wrote it was going to be big someday.

You kind of doubt it. It sounded like a weirdass story. Telekinetic powers. Weird.

Of course, like walking yourself to death wasn't weird either. But there was a difference. Sort of.

Anyway.

What were you doing?

You end up at a mall. It's open, thank God, wouldn't it suck if there was all these things here and they were all locked? You'd have to break a lot more windows. And while breaking windows makes you look badass, it's just a lot better for you and the environment if you don't break windows. You don't really care about the environment, but it sure as hell has to be better to _not_ get glass everywhere. And while you're already dead so another few scratches probably won't hurt, it still hurts. You might seem like you can deal with pain, what with your death and all, but really, you can't. You fucking _hate _pain. You were just totally numb for half of the Walk.

As soon as you enter the mall you hear the most annoying voice on the planet. And no, it's not reminiscent of Satan, it's Barkovitch. The freaks will follow you wherever you go, it seems.

You decide to go say hi. This might be a bad idea, but you're bored and sort of lonely, so you just go for it. You follow Barkovitch's screeches and profanity until you end up at a Barnes and Noble. You see Stebbins just inside, filling bags upon bags with books. You roll your eyes.

Hold on, who's Barkovitch even _talking _to? Is it McVries? Maybe, but you have a feeling that Barkovitch wouldn't be making this much noise if it was McVries. Things between them seemed to have calmed down a little.

"What's going on?" you ask Stebbins. He looks at you, and he looks a bit panicked.

"Rank found Barkovitch," he says quietly, and you can't help but laugh a little. He just looks at you. "I left before I could get caught up in it."

"I should sell tickets," you mutter, ignoring another glare from Stebbins. Tickets or not, you want to check it out. You're not sure if you have the guts (are we really doing this again?) to let them know you're there, but maybe if you clarify that you're just here for the show Rank won't go crazy. Because you're not sure that you can take Rank. The guy's fucking insane.

They're in the children's section. Barkovitch backed up against a bookshelf and looks like he's about to start throwing hardcovers. You stand and watch Barkovitch scream at Rank and Rank look like he's wondering if he should actually just hit the guy. Really, you're marveling at this guy's patience. If Barkovitch had basically murdered you, you'd be on him the minute you say him.

Eventually Rank does do something, which is good, because you were starting to get bored. Not good for Barkovitch, considering he's just been punched in the gut, but good for you.

What follows is really one of the most pathetic things you've ever seen. Barkovitch isn't really even _trying _to defend himself, he's just sort of taking it. Once Rank gets bored and leaves, very rudely bumping into you on his way out, you decide to see what's up.

"What the hell was that?" you ask, and Barkovitch doesn't look up at you. He's slid down to the ground and is staring at his knees. God, what a freak. "You didn't even try to defend yourself, or even try to get away!"

"Why do you care?" he asks. He rests his head on his knees and sighs. "Just figured… just figured that… well, I kind of _deserved _it, you know? Nobody likes me and I get that, but sometimes I fucking hate me too, and when that happens I just… I didn't kill him."

"Nobody said that," you say, wishing that someone else was there so that you could exchange a confused look with them. That's what you do in this sort of situation, right? "Except you, but-"

"Shut up," he says, and you do, because he's really starting to freak you out. "Just leave me alone."

You comply.

God, what a freak.

* * *

**There is like no time continuity here by the way.**

**But uh yeah.**

**No idea where this is going, no idea where this was going, no **_**idea at all….**_


	11. you life-talk with stebbins

You make it a few feet away from the Barnes and Noble and then feel bad. So, you turn back. Stebbins isn't in the front of the store, filling bags with books anymore. In fact, the bags that he'd previously filled with books were stacked neatly by the check-out counter.

You spend a few moments wondering where Stebbins is before you decide that you don't care.

After seriously considering turning around and leaving (again), you decide that you're a nicer person than that and should at least figure out if Barkovitch is _okay. _So, you do. You pick your way through the bookstore until you find the Children's Section again. Stebbins is there, looking awkward. Barkovitch hasn't moved. You wonder if you shouldn't just leave after all.

"Is he okay?" you ask Stebbins. Stebbins shrugs.

"Probably not," he says. You figure he's right, but you don't really know what to do. You could always go over there and be really sappy, friendship movie-esque and give him a hug or some shit like that, but you don't really want to touch him. So, you stay where you are.

"So," you say to Stebbins. "Are you going to do anything?"

"I'm not sure what to do," he admits.

"Neither do I," you say. There's an awkward pause. "Wanna go find something to eat?"

He agrees, and the two of you leave Barkovitch to… whatever he's doing. You end up heading to the Pizza Hut in Target. There are a few pizzas in the 'keep warm place', so you grab one while Stebbins gets drinks. The two of you sit at a booth right across from each other and you wonder if you should go grab some cookies from the Target for dessert. You decide that you're too lazy.

Stebbins picks the pepperonis off of his pizza and eats them first. You're normal, so you just eat your pizza normally. Between the two of you, you manage to polish of an entire medium pizza, and you figure that you could probably stand to eat a little more, but you don't feel like getting up to get the other pizza. It's been quiet, almost awkwardly so, but you've been eating so you excuse the awkwardness.

Stebbins finishes the piece he's been eating and the two of you just sit there.

"So," you say. "How's it been going since I was gone?"

"The same as when you were there, only there is nobody to break up fights between McVries and Barkovitch," he says. "I find their antics amusing."

"They act like they're brothers or something," you say. "It's kind of weird. They fucking hated each other."

"Death changes a person," he says. You disagree, but don't say anything, because you're exactly the same as you were when you were alive. "I only wonder when Ray Garraty will join us."

"If he joins us," you point out. "What if there's some… victor's town or whatever. All the sets of Walkers get their own weird little town, and all the victors are shoved together."

"That's an interesting hypothesis," he says. You wonder why he's so goddam weird. "I hope it isn't correct, however. McVries would be almost unbearable if it were."

"Yeah, you're right," you say. "God, he really liked that kid, didn't he?"

"I believe so," Stebbins says. "It really was heartbreaking when he sat down."

"Idiot," you say. You'd thought McVries was with you on the whole 'love doesn't fucking exist' thing, but apparently not. You decide that it's time to head back and see if you can find Baker. "Well, I'm gonna split. Nice seeing you."

"It was nice seeing you, too," Stebbins says. He looks like he's thinking. "I believe I'll go see if I can get Barkovitch home. Feel free to drop by whenever you'd like."

"Alright," you say. You don't mention that you'll probably end up moving back in soon, because you seriously don't feel welcome with Baker and Abraham and Parker, though you haven't seen him yet, so he hasn't really made you feel unwelcome. And Baker hasn't, either… really it's just Abraham.

You really hate Abraham.

…

By the time you get back, Parker's up. He glances at you and doesn't say anything, which is weird for someone like Parker, but you decide it's better than him insulting you. Baker waves. You decide to head up to your room.

It's going to be a long night.

* * *

**it's sort of short but whatever once again no idea where this is going i'm sort of just making it up as i go along but eventually i'll know what i'm doing probably**


	12. you go back to the freaks

You can't sleep and it sucks.

You don't know if you should leave or not. Maybe Parker and Abraham are scheming up a plan to murder you as you sleep. But you're not sleeping, so that should make their possible scheme quite difficult. Thank God for small favors. Such as not being asleep when they're possibly going to try to kill you.

You're sort of paranoid.

But you don't want to leave, because you'd have to go downstairs, and chances are, Collie Parker's still awake because he slept all day. But if Abraham's not awake, it shouldn't be that bad, right? Hell, Parker might even kick you out himself. If that happens, you can just head back to the loser house saying that they kicked you out. Of course, this might cement the fact that you _belong_ in the loser house, but who gives a fuck.

So you decide to head out. You shove everything that you can carry into your backpack – clothes and cigarettes, mostly, you haven't smoked since that time on the Walk but you used to do it all the time before the Walk, your parents didn't know but that's because they thought you were their perfect little God-fearing son – and walk downstairs.

Abraham and Baker are nowhere to be found. It's just Collie Parker sitting on the couch. He looks at you skeptically.

"Where the hell are you going?" he asks.

"I'm leaving," you say. He rolls his eyes. "Hey. Someone has to make sure McVries and Barkovitch don't fuck each other up too badly."

"You're living with Barkobitch, eh?" he says. You can't help but laugh. Barkobitch. That's funny. How the hell did you not think of that. "And McVries?"

"And Stebbins," you say, but you can tell that Parker doesn't really care about Stebbins.

"I fuckin' hate both of 'em," he says. He's got a really heavy Midwestern accent. It's kind of freaking you out. "McVries is an asshole and Barkobitch is a prick. Y'can't be thinking of going back to them."

"It's funny," is all you say, and he shrugs. You can tell he doesn't really care.

"Whatever," he says, and you just walk out the front door. That was a lot easier than you had expected, but now you're going to have to walk all the way back to your loser house and presumably kick Stebbins out of your room. God damn it.

…

Eventually, you're standing in front of the loser house. You decide that you're not going to bother to kick Stebbins out of your room and just slump on the couch, ignoring the guy that's already there. It's Pete, you're sure of it.

**[END OF DAY TWO]**

...

"Get the hell off of me, asshole."

It sounds like you didn't fall asleep on McVries last night. You fell asleep on Barkovitch – or Barkobitch, as Parker calls him – and now Barkovitch, his face a bunch of lovely colors from the other day, is glaring at you. You apparently are a cuddler. Your arms are around his waist, hugging him closer to you and he looks like he wants to murder you.

You kind of want to murder you, too. But instead you fall off of the couch. The problem with this is that you forget to let go of Barkovitch first, so you both go down. He yelps and you hear someone laugh. It sounds like Stebbins. You let go of Barkovitch at last and stand up.

"Why the fuck are you back here?" Barkovitch asked.

"Over there's not what it's cracked up to be," you say. You decide that it's the perfect time for a cigarette, because it will make you look cool. So you pull one out, glad that you put them on the top so you didn't have to dig for them. That sure would've killed the mood. "I like the loser house much better."

"Is that what we're calling it now?" Stebbins muses from an armchair behind you. You turn around and nod. "Fitting, really. Scarface, Killer, the Rabbit, and the Boy Who Did It Wrong. A quartet of freaks, losers, any other name anyone can think to call us."

"Shut up," you mutter. Well, at least you were just 'the Boy Who Did It Wrong', but you think that he's putting way too much stock into your last words. Now that you think back on it, you think that maybe you could've been talking about your life, or your way of going out, or anything, really, but at the moment you were just looking for something to say. Just clawing for something to say, a fitting finale to your last rebellion. And you found one, and it seems that people have taken you seriously about it. Well. You'll go with it.

"I didn't kill him," Barkovitch says. He's stick sticking to that story, is he?

Oh, whatever.

You still like this house better than the other one.

* * *

**these are getting sort of short i'm sorry but whatever**


	13. you don't like salt

"Is that Olson?" McVries asks, bounding down the stairs. The princess blanket is flowing behind him like some sort of weird cape. "Huh. Didn't think he'd be back this fast. How long was he over there, like twenty minutes?"

"At least three hours," Stebbins says, and you wonder if it would be inacceptable to hit him. You don't get the chance to, though, because then Stebbins asks you a question. "So, how was it over there? For the short time you were there, that is."

You shrug. "Eh, it was okay," you're seriously giving 'over there' way too much credit. "Nice attic."

Barkovitch bursts out laughing. "They stuck you in the _attic_?" he asks and you feel like smacking him. Yes, they stuck you in the attic. No, it does not merit you being laughed at by a kid whose nicknames include Killer, Freak,and especially _Barkobitch._

"Shut up Barkobitch," you say, and he colors.

"I- wha- _where the hell did you hear that?" _he asks. He looks very funny right now, sputtering and red-faced. You just smirk and let him freak out. It's more than slightly funny, actually.

Barkovitch eventually stalks into the kitchen. You hear water running and pots banging around. "What's he doing?" you ask Stebbins. McVries answers.

"When he gets freaked out or nervous or something, he either ties nooses – noosi? What's the plural of noose, anyway? – or walks on his hands or cooks. Apparently right now is a cooking time," he says, grinning a little. "I hope he makes eggs. I fucking love eggs."

"Um," you say. "Alright." You never would've pegged Barkovitch as a guy that could cook. McVries can cook, you can tell from his tomato soup that you didn't eat and the grilled cheese sandwiches that were decent enough.

Twenty minutes later, Barkovitch pokes his head back into the living room. "If you idiots want to eat I made food," he mutters. It seems that cooking has calmed him down.

It wouldn't surprise you if you went in there and there were about thirty nooses just laying around, though. It's a habit that you would expect Barkovitch to have. Not implying that he's suicidal, but implying that he likes creepy things like nooses.

Speaking of creepy, you wonder how Pearon's doing. You wonder if you should maybe go find him. Then you decide that you're going to eat first, then find Pearson. Maybe by now he's made Voodoo dolls of all of you. You wouldn't put it past him. He was a creepy fuck.

McVries, who has gone into the kitchen, cheers. "He made eggs!" he says. "Come on!"

You briefly wonder why McVries likes _eggs _so much, then decide that it doesn't actually fucking matter and you should go eat. Because you are starving. You haven't eaten since that pizza the other day, and a probably-not-growing-anymore-because-you're-dead boy like you needs to eat roughly a dozen eggs every three hours. Except Barkovitch has not made four dozen eggs so that you can all have a dozen because, as well as there not being enough room in the pan for all of those eggs- he made them scrambled, with cheese and chopped up ham – that would be kind of ridiculous. Partly because you're not sure if someone as skinny as Stebbins could eat a dozen eggs. He did well enough with the pizza the other day, but he's still probably half your weight.

You decide to make Kool-Aid because why not. The only kind you can find is blue raspberry, and blue raspberry kind of sucks (you're not sure why the raspberry is blue – aren't raspberries red?), but it's better than water. Everyone else has started by the time you're done making the Kool-Aid and you think about yelling at them for being assholes and taking all the food before you can get over there but then you realize that someone has served you some food, too.

Well, they're not all bad then.

Except, as soon as you take a bite you realize that they're incredibly salty. As in, you're pretty sure someone (and someone meaning probably Barkovitch) dumped an entire salt shaker of salt on them. You're not sure how you didn't notice this but, as is, you end up jumping to your feet and spitting it out into the sink. You don't even bother to get a cup and stick your head under the faucet, trying to wash the taste out of your mouth. They're all dying laughing. You flip them all off.

"Barkovitch is never cooking again," you announce once you get back to the table. McVries takes a little bit of your food and tries it out. He makes a face.

"Wow, he must really hate you," he says. "Too bad you're not getting any of mine."

Stebbins pushes his plate toward you. He's left about half of his food. "Thanks," you say. "See? He's the only decent guy here."

Barkovitch rolls his eyes. "Maybe you shouldn't be such an asshole and your food won't get a bunch of salt dumped on it," he says. You very calmly take the pitcher of blue raspberry Kool-Aid and dump it on his head. He freezes, his eyes shut tightly as blue Kool-Aid soaks through his hair, shirt, and runs off of his rather sharp nose and drips off of his chin. His food is ruined. He's covered in blue Kool-Aid that, if he doesn't get cleaned up quick, will get super-sticky. Actually, where he's sitting will be sticky. Everything will be sticky.

McVries has been laughing for a while now. Stebbins is trying and failing to suppress a smile, so he hides a face behind a book.

You just smirk.

Yeah.

You definitely like it better here.

* * *

**poor barkobitch**


	14. you go for a walk

You decide to go for a walk. Your mind originally shies away from the idea, but you manage to convince it with the promise of a cigarette. "Anyone have a lighter? Some matches?" you ask. Stebbins digs around in the kitchen draws for a while and comes up with a box of matches. "Thanks."

You wander around, just enjoying the sights and smoking. It's so empty and it's starting to freak you out. It's not like you lived in New York or anything when you were alive – no, you were from western Montana – but if a place has this much stuff there should be people to fill it up. You'd be fine with it if it was just empty countryside, but all these empty houses make you a little nervous.

Not paying attention to where you're going, you run straight into Pearson. Funny, you were just thinking about him at breakfast.

"Um," you say. "Make your voodoo dolls yet?"

He looks offended. He was offended when you called his pennies creepy, too, but you figure that you were justified in that because they _were _creepy. "Did you take Baker away from Abraham yet, or don't you have guts to do it anymore?"

It takes you a while, but eventually you get it. "I am _so goddam sick of these stupid intestine jokes,"_ you say, and he laughs. "Look, you're not the first to say something like and you sure as hell won't be the last so just. Stop."

"Why?" Pearson asks. "It's funny."

You roll your eyes and go on walking. He follows you. You're getting more than slightly annoyed with him. You never really liked him – hell, who did you like? Baker? Yeah, that was about it, McVries and Garraty weren't too bad, Parker was a badass, and you thought Stebbins was smart but that was basically it – and that dislike has transferred over to the afterlife. You can tell he doesn't really like you either. Probably because of your reaction to the penny thing.

"So, what have you been up to?" you ask because it's extremely fucking awkward if you're just walking there.

"Oh, you know," he says. "Cursing first-born children. Manipulating lives from beyond the grave."

You just look at him and he rolls his eyes. What a sarcastic little shit. You kind of like him, though he did make a joke about your intestines falling out, but, then again, who _hasn't _made a joke about your intestines falling out? Hell, you've even made a joke about your intestines falling out.

"I'm hungry," you realize. You didn't get to eat much of Stebbins's eggs before dumping the Kool-Aid on Barkovitch's head. You throw your cigarette on the road and glance around. "You think there will be cereal or something in one of these houses."

"Let's make cookie dough," Pearson says. You look at him. He shrugs. "What? I like raw cookies. Mostly because of the raw eggs because I like eating babies."

"You're taking this too far," you say. "Christ, just because I said that your stupid penny thing was creepy –"

"It was for _good luck!_ I wasn't trying to _curse_ you guys or anything, I was just-"

"Anyway, if you eat raw eggs you'll get salmonella-"

"Oh, who gives a shit, I'm dead-"

"So am I but I don't want salmonella-"

"You won't get salmonella-"

"I'm just following my gut-" And then you're both laughing, the argument gone and Pearson has completely given up on standing. He's sprawled out on the sidewalk (You briefly remember the first words you heard him say: "Hey! Sidewalks!") laughing, and you're still standing up but you're laughing and you think that maybe you wouldn't mind some cookie dough.

"Alright," he says after he's done laughing. "Help me up and then let's go make some cookies. As long as you let me eat some of the dough."

"Okay," you say, grabbing onto his outstretched hand and pulling him up. "Where'd Harkness end up, anyway? I saw you with him at Abraham's stupid little thing."

Pearson shrugs. "Haven't seen him since. I woke up, didn't see him, and decided to find a place to sleep that wasn't the floor."

"Oh," you say for lack of something better. "Well. How about those cookies."

He rolls his eyes and heads for the nearest house. You follow. This house is locked, and you prepare to do your break-open-window-cut-arm-unlock-door routine, but he picks the lock before you can find a suitable rock. Damn it. That was sort of badass.

You have no idea how to make cookies so he takes charge, finding butter and vanilla and sugar and brown sugar – you steal a cup of this and eat it while sitting on the counter, halfway through it you feel like throwing up and dump it back in the brown sugar bag when Pearson's not looking – and everything else that you need to make chocolate chip cookies. Pearson makes the cookie dough, eating hunks of it at what seems like every stage. He even eats some of the melted butter/sugar/brown sugar mix, which you think is a little gross, and once you get to the 'just before you put them in the oven' stage, you grab a handful. There's probably enough cookie dough left in there for ten cookies, and the batch originally made around thirty.

Oops.

While waiting for the cookies to bake, you ask Pearson a question.

"So, you want to move into the loser's house with me, McVries, Stebbins, and Barkovitch?"

* * *

**this reread of the long walk has given me many hank olson feelings**


End file.
